Memories
by Aro the Purple Demon
Summary: Sequel to Bury Me in Satin. Cousins James and Fred II sit by the river like Fred and George. Conversations arise that are errily simiar.


**Memories**

_As long as I'm with you_  
_My memories won't fade_

-Memories, Caitlin Glass

* * *

Two red heads stood on the shore of a glistening river. They skipped rocks over the surface, laughing at the other's attempts.

"Hey Fred!" one of them cried, stumbling over a large stone. "Look at this!" Fred joined his companion, looking curiously at the white slab. His blue eyes widened.

**In Memory of Fred Weasley**  
**1 April 1978 - 2 May 1998**  
**Brother and prankster extrodinare**

"Uncle Fred!" they both cried.

"James," Fred II said. "This is why he's not in the family graveyard. James tipped his head to the side, brown eyes examining the horizon.

"I always wondered about that," he mused. He looked up at his cousin and grinned. "Think him and Uncle George did what we're doing now?"

"Oh yeah," Fred said, plopping to the ground and laying back. "Yeah, they came here to skip rocks and look at Uncle Fred's tombstone." James rolled his eyes and laid down too, copper hair brushing against Fred's slightly lighter color.

"That's exactly what they did," he said sarcastically.

"Glad you agree with me." Fred said, smiling.

They were silent for a while.

"How did he die?" Fred asked, squinting at the sky.

"You don't know?" James asked, shocked.

"Do you?" the other boy asked, looking at him. James shook his head.

"Mum and Dad don't like talking about it."

"Neither do mine," Fred grumbled, turning back to look at the clouds. "Trust me, Roxie and I have tried everything."

"Hmm," James hummed, looking over the river. "Well, why do you think he's not buried in the family plot?"

"Because that's the way he wanted it." a new and deeper voice said softly, filled with a sad sort of affection.

"Dad/Uncle George!" Fred and James cried, sitting up to stare at the one eared man.

"Hello boys," George said, smiling softly. "Having fun?" They nodded slightly. "Don't mind me, I'm just an old man caught up in his memories." Fred and James stared at the man for a moment, not finding a single gray hair on him.

"Suuuure," they said, laying back down.

More silence.

"How do you think we'll die?"

James turned to frown at his cousin while George listened shocked, blue eyes wide.

_**"Hey, George," a young red headed man asked. "What do you think'll happen if we die?"**_

"Old," James said thoughtfully. "With our family all around us. Course, I'll still be cracking jokes!"

_**"If we die," he said slowly. "We'll die old and surrounded by our kids."**_

"That's boring," Fred said, scrunching up his freckled nose. "I wanna die fighting."

"Dueling?" James asked, blinking slightly.

"As an Auror!" Fred grinned, eyes distant, dreaming of the future. "With pride! Like a true Weasley!"

"For me it'll be like a true Marauder!" James laughed.

**_"We've always had pride." George commented, looking at his twin. Fred grinned._**

**_"Got that right. The Weasley's are the proudest bloodtraitors ever!"_**

"Keep talking like that and it'll come true," George commented lightly, lost in memories.

"So?" Fred asked, looking at his father.

"Just saying," the older red head said, turning to look at his son.

Blue eyes widened as he caught the picture.

Two young red heads lieing on the shore, flaming heads brushing together. Content grins as they watched the sun set.

"Dad?" Fred asked, looking confused.

"Huh?" George jumped, looking startled.

"Are you ready to go?" the young man asked, looking concerned for his father, who was obviously becoming senile.

"Go on ahead," George said, waving him off. Fred and James nodded, walking away, glancing over their shoulders at him once more before disappearing over the hill.

_"Georgie's an old man, isn't he?"_ a cheerful voice asked from behind him.

The one eared man spun around, looking for the speaker.

Laughter ran through the wind, swirling around him.

"Fred?" George breathed, scanning the river bank.

_"He's waiting!" _came the whispered reply, reaching his ears faintly before fading on the wind.

_

* * *

_


End file.
